Boxes
by FallingMirrors
Summary: [He knew now that he would never be able to run from the demon. He knew that he would forever be dependent on the creature, would never be able to live his life normally again. It was now his turn to be collared, in the most permanent of ways.] Ciel wants to leave, Sebastian wants him to stay. Non season II compliant. Spans 1800s-1990s. S/C. Warning for amputation/body horror.


**Author's Note:** So basically this is the result of being in the NBC Hannibal fandom, watching the film Boxing Helena and having a really bizarre way of thinking. I was actually deliberating whether or not to upload this seeing as this website doesn't really seem as... out there as Archive Of Our Own, I guess, which is where I've been reading some pieces of work focusing on body horror. But I decided to take a shot in the dark because I thought that someone out there might like to read it, haha. As you might guess whilst reading, this isn't exactly in chronological order. It sort of skips back and forth, beginning at the end of season I and then finishing in the early 90s. (Why the early 90s? Well, because that's when Boxing Helena was made as well as when I was born and seeing as I've just graduated secondary school, I wanted to go for a bit of nostalgia.) Oh, and as always this isn't beta-read so excuse typos please.

**Disclaimer:** I obviously do not own Kuroshitsuji.

**Warnings:** Major amputation, dependence, dark themes, body horror, male/male non-explicit sex, unhealthy relationship, brief mention of vomit.

**Boxes**

"How is the water?"

"Fine."

The boy emitted a deep sigh, the dark, glossy down of his hair pressed against the sterile whiteness of the bathtub, averting his eyes from the other inhabitant of the room as the washcloth was dipped into the water and began gliding reverently over his body.

"It's always fine," he breathed, the thick fringe of his eyelashes lowering, anticipating the sleep that stubbornly evaded him.

:: ::

In hindsight, Ciel wished he could have foreseen the utter possession that was the key factor of Sebastian's plan. He had entered into the covenant with the raven-haired demon on the expectation that once his revenge had been granted to him, he would be cast off into the depths of Hell. That, evidently, was not the case. And Ciel had been enraged when he discovered that what Sebastian had wanted was to _own _his soul, not devour it. The demon had laughed at him initially ("Now that our contract has run its course, I have essentially been released from my collar. I can gather any soul I happen to find - before those cursed death gods reach it first, of course. Why on earth would I want to waste yours?") and Ciel had been forced to abide by the demon's will.

In the early days, Sebastian's requests had not been particularly demanding. In fact, nothing much had changed - apart from the fact that his loved ones now believed him to be dead. The young master had been whisked away to a new home; a grand yet drastically smaller house in the woods, far from civilization and the risk of him being sighted. Sebastian busied himself with cleaning and providing for him as he always had and Ciel was to entertain himself, be it reading in his bedroom or sitting in the garden (beneath a parasol, at Sebastian's request he maintain the pearlescent whiteness of his aristocrat's skin.) Whilst rationality told Ciel that he should be grateful he wasn't currently being digested, a terrible discomfort lurked constantly somewhere in the back of his mind. It seemed as though his current circumstances were an illusion, trying to lull him into a false sense of security, whispering in his ear in an attempt to convince him to lower his guard. Of course, Ciel had lived the past few years with metaphorical steel shutters secluding his mind, and he was not about to let his mental reinforcements go to waste just yet.

Sebastian appeared to be content, if anything. The crescent-moon smile never left his face, but his eyes would glint sometimes, and on those occasions Ciel's heart would plummet.

:: ::

"Are you ready to get out now?"

"In a moment."

"The water will get cold."

"Just a little longer."

:: ::

Ciel did not know when their relationship had grown intimate in nature. He knew for certain that he did not initiate these acts and he surmised that Sebastian must have completed the process in very gradual stages. He did not know when he began to enjoy their interactions either. He did not know when he began to reciprocate. At first, their coupling had seemed a chore to him, a necessity akin to brushing his teeth. However, he soon found himself growing lost within the rapture of being with Sebastian, found himself clutching to pale, moulded arms and holding the great, beautiful head between his slender hands, his fingers mapping the angles of him and the raven's feathers of his eyelashes. He found himself pressing his lips to those of the demon, wanting to feel that living, breathing marble against his own baby-soft skin.

The years rolled by and Ciel felt distant from the outside world, but not isolated. He knew he wasn't aging and that the only changes about him were the new clothes that Sebastian supplied, that he now held a brick-like games console from time to time as opposed to his books and delighted in the technological delicacies that Sebastian brought, from the gramophone to the black and white screen of the television (which swiftly seemed to evolve to colour, the number of channels increasing.)

Eventually, Sebastian saw fit to move the two of them to a small townhouse closer to central London. After all, everyone who could possibly have recognised Ciel was long dead, all of them wiped out. Ciel was not quite sure what to think about that, but he did feel a distinct lonely ache at the thought of the end of his beloved cousin's life. Sebastian was sure to know the details of her death, the details of the passings of all his loved ones, but he could not quite find it in himself to ask. He realised that he did not want to think of Lizzie dead. He would maintain her life in his imagination, the fiercely dedicated sunny-haired girl.

They fell into a comfortable, if mundane, routine. Sebastian prepared three meals a day for him and lay beside him every night when he fell asleep. The demon was never still there when he awoke in the morning.

:: ::

"May I brush your hair for you?"

"Yes."

:: ::

Everything had been placid before the fights. And the fights had been hideous, Ciel mourning the death that was denied him and Sebastian defending his right to the soul he had earned. ("Let me go," he had demanded in his fury, as though he still held some semblance of power over the other being, "I order-... I _order..._" He realised the futility of his words as the demon stood completely still, his face a stoic mask.) He turned onto his side at night, his back facing Sebastian, and had shrugged off the hands that tried to manipulate him. The demon's fingertips dug painfully into his shoulder, but still he did not give in. Sebastian, however, must have, for he felt the weight of him leave the mattress after a little while.

The next morning he woke up without his legs.

:: ::

"Would you like your afternoon snack?"

"Alright."

:: ::

He had been horrified, could not quite believe what was happening. The bedsheets caved in grotesquely around the area where his legs should have been. His hands trembled. He leant to the side and vomited over the edge of the bed.

"Good morning," Sebastian had greeted him as benignly as he did any other morning upon entering the room. He frowned when he saw the mess by the side of the bed. "Oh my. I'll have to clean that up. No matter - accidents happen, don't they?" The question was aimed towards him, the sickening glint residing in the demon's wine-red eye.

Ciel did not ask what had happened to him. He did not ask why it had happened. He already knew the answers to both queries. Sebastian was stating his point - he would truly never let him leave, even if it meant butchering him.

"Here," the man stated, coming forwards with his hand reaching forward, "Allow me to help you dress-" The offered hands, however, were slapped sharply away.

"_Don't. _Don't you dare touch me. Get away from me," Ciel spat through clenched teeth, very much aware of the clamminess of his hands and the trembling of his voice. "Get away."

Once again, Sebastian's brows furrowed. "Now, young-"

"_Don't _call me that. Go away, I can't bear to look at you. I can't even look at you. Get out. _Out!_" He screeched, hand fumbling for the glass of water that he kept on the bedside table throughout the night. When it finally found purchase against the cold glass, he launched it at the black-haired man, though his aim was terribly off. Sebastian, however, conceded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

When he was gone, Ciel's breaths came in harsh gasps, hand pressed to his mouth in an attempt to stifle them. He felt lightheaded, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid looking at the inevitable truth. He knew now that he would never be able to run from the demon. He knew that he would forever be dependent on the creature, would never be able to live his life normally again. It was now his turn to be collared, in the most permanent of ways.

:: ::

"I've prepared a black forest gâteaux for dessert tonight."

:: ::

Although Ciel had no legs with which to run, he still fought tooth and nail to keep Sebastian away from him. He used his remaining limbs to his advantage, not allowing the demon to come close, pushing and shoving at him. He spent twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week on the bed as though stranded on a desert island. Sebastian was forbidden from sharing the bed at night. As far as Ciel was concerned, this was his territory now - his safe place. He would order Sebastian to lift him to the bathroom, from which point he managed to heft himself around using the strategically placed chairs he had told Sebastian to place there for him in an attempt to be as autonomous as possible. It would be far easier to allow Sebastian to assist him and assume the role of his carer, as the demon had seemed to expect, but the _principle_ of the situation made Ciel grit his teeth against the idea.

Of course, Sebastian did not put up with this for too long. After what could only have been a couple of weeks, Ciel woke up one morning to find that his arms, too, had been taken from him.

Upon making this discovery, he did not create a racket. He did not wail, cursing the demon. He simply lifted his head, taking in the missing limbs, gave a deep, shuddering breath, and rested his head back against the cushion. He closed his eyes briefly in resignation. He had suspected that this would happen. If Sebastian would willingly remove his legs, Ciel was sure he had no qualms about taking his arms as well.

He didn't respond to Sebastian's cheerful good morning. He allowed the demon to bathe him, dress him, feed him his meals by hand. He allowed himself to be propped in the living room to watch television for the first time in weeks. However, not once did he speak to the man.

That night, he was powerless to move away from the demon when he was secured in the long arms, after being given painkillers that Sebastian helped him wash down with a glass of water. He made a valiant attempt at remaining stiff in the man's arms, but when a pair of cool lips brushed over his ear and fingers began threading methodically through his hair, he felt himself go limp and a deep groan escaped him - perhaps as close to sobbing or mourning the loss of his limbs as he would get. He felt Sebastian still and the man reached over to snap on the lamp sitting on top of the bedside table. The maroon gaze bore deeply into his own and he was pulled to rest atop the strong thighs, his face pressed against the white shirtfront and Sebastian's face pressed insistently against the crown of his head.

"For your own good," he heard the ex-butler murmur against him. "Only because I love you."

Ciel choked. "You don't know how," he retorted.

Sebastian did not reply, but as the boy felt himself drift to sleep, he felt as though they had reached a settlement of some kind.

:: ::

They sat at their usual places at the dining room table, Ciel resting at the head of the table in an armchair to ensure he would not lose his balance, whilst Sebastian sat to his left, patiently feeding him precisely cut pieces of fruit.

"Would you like to go out today?" the man questioned. For a fraction of a second, Ciel felt his visible eye widen, before his shook his head resolutely.

"No. I'm fine." It was possible, of course, for him to leave the house in a wheelchair and accompany Sebastian into the city, but he hated the stares he would receive, hated the feelings of vulnerability and utter dependence that would always result in a bad mood. Sometimes, however, Sebastian would insist on him receiving some fresh air and on those occasions, Ciel would allow himself to be taken for a walk around the park down the road, though he preferred weekdays during the late morning when people were more likely to be at work and curious children were more likely to be in school.

"Very well. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Mm."

"You look very pretty today."

A pause. "I think I'm done eating now."

The demon did not meet his gaze, instead focused on the bright red of the strawberries on the plate, prodding at them gently with the tines of the shining silver fork. "You look pretty every day, of course. I make sure of that."

"_Sebastian._" At the quiet pressing of his voice, the man lifted his head and seemed to pull himself from his musings. "I'm finished. Will you read to me?" A smile curled the once-butler's lips and he set the plate down to rest upon his lap, one hand reaching up to right the boy's hair.

"Of course I will. Just allow me to clear this away first," he responded, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the plate.

As the man left him momentarily, Ciel gave a gentle sigh, somewhat grateful to be alone for the tiniest of minutes. He could never truly be sure of the motivation behind Sebastian's actions, nor whether or not the butler had gotten what he wanted... whatever it was that had been. However, he did know that this was his life now, that he would never reclaim what had been taken from him, that Sebastian owned him now and that would never change. But he was a Phantomhive, he still had that at the very least. He would hold his head high for all the years that rolled by, would maintain even a shred of his old dignity no matter what. And that now it was he who would remain by Sebastian's side until the very end.

**Secondary AN: **Well that was that. The title is obviously in reference to the film that inspired this fic, which I urge you to watch if you're of an appropriate age. I apologise to the reviewer (Cielstian Michaelhive) who asked me to go a bit lighter on the dark themes on the final chapter of Caym... Yeah that didn't happen. I also apologise to preteens who may have been scarred. I pray you're all busy reading something filthy but not quite as fucked up.

I know there are a lot of unanswered questions and a little plot bending to avoid Ciel's soul being consumed but oh well. I'm eighteen and therefore live by no-one's rules but my own... apparently. If you have any questions or queries, feel free to PM me (I love talking to people through PMs!) or if you want to suggest something I could write or give me a prompt, then feel free to leave it in a review or send me a PM. I've finished school now, so I'll have some free time over the summer to write more.


End file.
